Comescu
by Eris Dea Disaccordo
Summary: Five months after 'Taken,' Eric finds Kensi in Fresno, California, of all places. While everyone tries to figure out why she hasn't come home, Kensi gambles five innocents lives for a secret that's been kept for more than thirty years.
1. Chapter 1

_**Comescu  
><strong>_**by** **Eri****s**

**Chapter 1: Found**

* * *

><p><strong>Marty Deeks<strong>

* * *

><p>It's been five months since Kensi disappeared, and the team hasn't been the same without her. It's Eric who tells him about Dom, how they've been through this once before already, and Deeks thinks that because it's Kensi who's missing now, everyone's suffering is even worse. Hetty didn't even bring in a temporary replacement—that's how important Kensi is.<p>

To everyone.

And that just makes him miss her even more.

* * *

><p><strong>Office of Special Projects Headquarters, Los Angeles<strong>

* * *

><p>It was a slow day for OSP, having finished a case just the day before, so when Eric appears at the balcony yelling for everyone to, "Get up here! I've got a lead on Kensi," no one hesitates to rush to the Ops Center, because, busy or not, Kensi's abduction is pretty much the most important case on their plate.<p>

"What do you have, Eric?" Callen asks, always ahead of the group and therefore the first to enter the room. Eric, Nell, Nate and Hetty are already there, and they'd clearly been discussing something before Eric found that lead. Or perhaps, they were talking about the lead itself.

"I created a program that uses Kaleidoscope to run facial recognition and fed it Kensi's picture. It's been running for five months now, and I just got a hit," Eric explains excitedly with a wide grin on his face. He pulled up an image that has Kensi in it, looking good and well and _alive_. "This was taken at the Fresno branch of the Union Bank of Switzerland."

"Wait," Deeks cuts in with disbelief. "Fresno, _California?_"

"She's been here all this time?" Callen adds with just as much disbelief in his voice.

"Seems so," Eric confirms. "Around thirty minutes ago, she withdrew fifty thousand dollars from an active account and retrieved something from a safe deposit box. Both the account and the box are owned by a Ms. Kaitlin Banks."

"Kaitlin Banks," Deeks echoes, smirking a little. "K. B. Kensi Blye."

"Don't be so sure about that," Sam tells him. "For all we know, Kaitlin Banks is someone else entirely."

"You still have her location?" Callen asks.

"I've got Kaleidoscope watching her right now," Eric assures him.

"Put her up on screen," Callen instructs. Eric does as he asks and brings up the program monitoring Kensi. Everyone observes her—or her car, rather—for a few seconds before Callen deduces, "She's heading for Fresno Yosemite International Airport."

"A meet up?" Sam wonders.

"No," Nate realizes. "It's a trade. Kensi's got no reason—that we know of—to stay away from us, _and_ take fifty grand in cash and something else from a safety deposit. Unless she's being coerced."

"Or blackmailed," Sam sums up, and it clearly rattles everyone in the room, because Kensi isn't one to let herself get blackmailed or forced into doing anything unless her life, or someone she cares about, is threatened.

"It's got to be something significant," Nate reasons, "something important, to her, Kaitlin Banks_ and _whoever she's meeting up with."

"Important enough," Hetty adds, "that she didn't come back to us for help." Her tone made it clear that she didn't approve of whatever Kensi was up to, and nobody could blame her—they weren't too happy that she was doing the lone wolf thing either. That was more Callen's style than Kensi's.

"What if she can't?" Nate asks. "What if she thinks she _has_ to do it by herself?"

"What if she's gone Jason Bourne on us?" Eric adds. Everyone turns to look at him then, and despite the ridiculous suggestion, Eric has a serious look on his face.

"That's…a possibility," Nate allows. "Eric, do we have a description of Kaitlin Banks?"

Eric types for a moment, then brings up a file. "Caucasian female, twenty-eight years old, 5'8, brown hair, brown eyes," he says. "No image, but the description reads like Kensi. If Kensi isn't Kaitlin, then the similarity is probably how she got access to the account."

"Guys, Kensi just arrived at the airport," Nell announces, tapping on her own handheld device. Several windows have appeared on the screen, showing off the different camera angles of the airport's interior and exterior. On the far left window, Kensi's car appears, and she emerges with a bag, leaving her keys with a valet and handing the man what looked to be a bill. She then enters the airport, where she's picked up by another camera.

"She's not bothering to hide," Sam observes.

"She's staying in plain sight," Callen corrects him.

"That would mean she's in danger," Sam points out.

Callen sighs heavily. "I don't think she's stopped being in danger since the day she disappeared."

No one could disprove that claim. They wouldn't anyway, because they all look like they're thinking the same thing.

On the screen, Kensi makes her way to the locker rentals, and it's not long before she arrives at locker 20, where they see her stash her bag inside before leaving the area. She proceeds to buy a plane ticket and settles down at the waiting area. Less than ten seconds passes before she reaches into her pocket and answers her phone.

"Eric, can you get us audio?" Sam asks.

Eric is quiet for a moment, furiously tapping at the device in his hands. "Done," he announces with a triumphant "Ha!" as an unfamiliar female voice echoes through the room.

"She's speaking in Romanian," Callen says, sounding surprised.

"Could you provide us with a translation, Mr. Callen?" Hetty asks.

Kensi's voice, sounding raspy, but still recognizable, filters through the speakers. "I put the package in the locker, like we agreed," Callen translates. "It was empty though. Where are the files you promised me?"

The other voice responds, and Callen tells them that it means, "Do you have the box?"

"_Da_," Kensi says, and they don't need Callen to tell them what the word means, or that she sounded annoyed.

"The files are inside the box," the voice assures her.

"Then our business is complete," Kensi says, standing up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"Catalina, you are a good woman," the voice adds before Kensi can hang up, and it's clear by the look on Kensi's face that the compliment is unexpected. "Why are you getting in the middle of that mess?"

Kensi frowns, clearly unhappy at the question, but answers, "I'm doing this for a good friend of mine." She hesitates, then adds, "Take care of yourself, Ilena."

"And you, Catalina," the voice replies. Kensi snaps her phone shut and leaves the area, heading to the sidewalk and taking a cab instead of retrieving her car.

"Guys, look," Nell says, pointing to the camera that had a view of the lockers. A woman with curling brown hair was opening locker 20, taking out the bag that Kensi put inside. She left the key hanging on the lock and walks to the chair Kensi had vacated, picking something up, before heading out to the sidewalk, where she hands something to the valet and waits until the car Kensi had taken pulled up in front of her.

"Mr. Beale, follow Ms. Blye and get us an address for her. Ms. Jones, keep an eye on that car and find out who that woman is. Mr. Getz, if you would please help them start the process of finding out who Kaitlin Banks is and what Ms. Blye could possibly be up to with this Ilena woman, and why she's calling Ms. Blye Catalina, it would be very much appreciated," Hetty tells him, and the three of them nod, manning three separate computers to do their work at once. She turns to the remaining three men, who look expectantly at her, and she exhales deeply. "Mr. Callen, Mr. Hanna, Mr. Deeks—wheels up in an hour.

"Let's go retrieve our agent."

* * *

><p><strong>1702 West Bullard Avenue, Fresno<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>When she returns to the house, she immediately opens the box and finds a single thumb drive nestled in a Styrofoam container. She's been searching for this for five months. She's been away from her <em>family<em> for _five months_ because of the information she was looking for, and that's the reason why she doesn't waste time, plugging the drive into the laptop sitting on the kitchen table.

It's with a deep, relieved and excited sigh that she discovers that the flash drive isn't empty like she feared it would be.

There's a knock on her door more than an hour later, and it echoes in the empty apartment. Seeing as how she hasn't made any friends, there's only one person who could be knocking at her door. But she gets up with a smile on her face anyway, because although she's barely gone through the contents of the drive, she's seen enough to know that leaving LA wasn't for nothing after all. And although she feels so tired enough to drop into bed and sleep the rest of the year away, she's glad. Everything she did, everything she's sacrificed, for the past five months—it was _worth it_.

She opens the door, and any positive emotion she'd been feeling disappears at the sight of G. Callen standing at her porch.

* * *

><p><strong>Marty Deeks<strong>

* * *

><p>He doesn't expect the woman who answers the door. All this time, he'd imagined having to rescue her, imagined a gunfight or some sort of daring and foolish rescue attempt involved when they finally found Kensi. He—to his chagrin—imagined her a little more injured and bruised when the imagined rescue attempted finally happened.<p>

Instead, she stands in front of them with a hand on the door and a happy kind of smile on her face. The smile slips at the sight of them—of Callen—and then her face seems to blank out.

"Hi," she says almost perkily. "Can I help you?"

She says it as if she doesn't recognize them, and Deeks briefly considers the Jason Bourne scenario Eric had mentioned a while ago. But even if he was terribly confused and wanted to look to Sam or Callen for some sort of clue how to handle this unexpected reaction, he finds that he can't bring himself to look away from her.

"Kensi?" Callen asks tentatively, and her eyes—one hazel, the other darker with her birthmark—meet his, a polite, distant smile appearing on her lips.

"I'm sorry?" she says, still wearing that blank, slightly expectant look on her face.

"Kensi," Callen repeats, stepping forward. Kensi's eyes widen and she backs away in alarm, her hands pushing forward to shut the door. "No, Kensi, wait!" He wedges his foot in the doorway and it's ridiculous that he has to struggle with _Kensi_ just to get past the door.

It's also ridiculous that he and Sam only stand back and watch Callen deal with Kensi on his own.

In a purely epic move, Kensi reaches behind her and whips out an umbrella that she uses to hit Callen on the head, and it surprises him long enough for her to kick his foot out and shut the door. The snapping of the deadbolt can be heard through the door, and Deeks can only blink as he processes what just happened.

"Dude," he says to Callen, still in a state of shock, "You just had your ass handed to you by Kensi and an umbrella."

* * *

><p><strong>Sam Hanna<strong>

* * *

><p>When Eric says he's found her, when he sees that real-time video of her alive and well for the first time in five long months, Sam is relieved. Kensi's okay. She's not being tortured in the basement of some abandoned building like Dom was.<p>

She's not dead.

But why the fuck hasn't she contacted them and what the fuck does she think she's doing running around in plain sight, in _Fresno_ of all places?

Why hasn't she come _home_?

His questions are pretty much answered when they get to her house. It's leased to—surprise, surprise—Kaitlin Banks, and Kensi answers the door in the same clothes she was wearing when they first saw her again.

Sam knows Kensi Blye. He's had five years to learn everything about her, knows when she's playing a part, when she's lying, and when she's being herself.

She's playing a part now. He knows she'd recognized them, because her eyes had brightened up in that fond way of hers when she laid eyes on G. (He always had been Kensi's favorite agent, the same way G uniquely favored her over the other rookies they've had.) So Sam knows she's playing a part.

The question now was 'why?'

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She calls the police, because that's what Kaitlin Banks—her cover name—would do. She tells them that a man had just tried to force his way into her home, and that the man had five other male acquaintances, and that she doesn't know what to do. They tell her to stay calm and arm herself with a bat, something that can injure, not kill, and that they would be on their way to help her.<p>

When the local PD arrives, she watches from the window as Callen defuses the situation, telling the police that he was an NCIS Special Agent. They all show their badges, but thankfully, they don't reveal that she's one of them.

Her cover is safe. For now.

The Fresno police knock on her door, and a female officer slips through the door and assures her that the men outside are government agents working for the Navy, that they just wanted to speak with her.

But she can't, because she _knows_ her team. They'll get under her skin and she'll eventually give in and tell them what was going on. And right now, she can't risk it. Them simply being in Fresno, flashing their badges and announcing their presence, was already dangerous—for them and for her.

So she asks the officer to inquire whether they wanted to talk about a case or a matter of state security, because otherwise, they had no right to barge into her home and scare her like that. The officer is sympathetic, goes to talk to Callen, then returns and assures her that they won't be bothering her again.

She knows them well, which is why she doubts they'd leave her alone, so once everyone had cleared off her lawn, she calls a hotel and starts packing her bags.

Again.

* * *

><p><strong>Marty Deeks<strong>

* * *

><p>Callen waits an hour before leading them back to Kensi's address. He and Sam take one car, Callen another, and they help him tail her to a hotel near the airport. Eric tells them she's checked in as Katelyn Di Stefano, and that she's booked a room for the rest of the week. He, Sam and Callen then watch as a bellboy brings her bags up to the room while she proceeds to a minimart outside the hotel.<p>

"Deeks, follow her in," Callen says, and Deeks doesn't complain—he simply exits the car and hurries after her.

She's moving past the aisles fast, and with the clerk's eyes darting between him and her, he's forced to slow his pace and pretend to browse the selections. When a teenage couple suddenly enters and the clerk chooses to watch them instead, he follows her into the restrooms.

It's empty when he gets there—the window above the middle stall shoved wide open.

* * *

><p><strong>G. Callen<strong>

* * *

><p>He knows Kensi well—he taught her most of what she knew, after all—and he can tell she's working a cover. He also knows now (in hindsight) that she's worried their presence had compromised her, which is why she was checking into a hotel.<p>

Didn't she remember that he taught her that too?

When Deeks follows her into the minimart, he moves around the building's perimeter, positioning himself in the alley behind it. Sure enough, he sees Kensi push the small window open and slide out into the alley, and she heads right in his direction, just as he'd predicted she would.

He grabs her, earning a surprised cry from her, and forces her against the wall when she lashes out at him with her purse.

"Kensi, what the _fuck?_" he asks her, pinning her to the wall.

"Please let me go!" she cries, still playing her cover. "Take what you need, just don't hurt me, _please!_"

He spins her around, hands wrapped firmly around her arms, and looks her in the eye. "Kens, just stop, okay? Let me help you," he tells her gently. "Since when did you stop trusting me?"

She stills, breathing heavily. "I don't _know_ you," she murmurs, sniffling. There's honest-to-God tears in her eyes, and damn it, but if not for the fact that he _knows_ Kensi Blye is a born operator, he'd be convinced that she's telling the truth. "Please, _please_, whatever you want, just don't hurt me."

Her words have him frustrated and worried and goddamn it, this isn't how he envisioned seeing Kensi again, wasn't how this trip was supposed to go.

He considers every possibility, every probably scenario, and there isn't a safe bet in there anywhere. But he's got no choice. If Kensi was undercover, than he couldn't be the one to expose her.

His only option was to let this play out, to let her go.

Again.

So he presses a kiss to her forehead. "Come back to me, okay?" he tells her. "I don't wanna have to make Sam or Deeks my new favorite agent. So you _come back to me_."

Then, unhappily, he releases the grip he has on her, letting her run away from him.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam Hanna<strong>

* * *

><p>Neither he nor Deeks have the guts to tell G that he'd forgotten to turn off his earwig, that they'd heard everything. He's not insane, and Deeks isn't suicidal.<p>

And they won't tell anyone else either, because whatever happens, G and Kensi are their partners, and partners will always have each other's backs.

Beyond that, they're a team, and a teammate always supported another teammate.

Through whatever crisis or storm.

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She runs. Not for the reasons she's supposed to, but because if she doesn't, she'll stay.<p>

And if she stays, if she breaks cover for even _one _moment, then the entire purpose of staying away for the past five months would be useless. And then she might never get the answers she's looking for.

So she runs, away from him, away from her family, toward certain danger.

She'd booked her hotel room for a week, but she's not going to stay there. She drives out to the beautiful villa she's been welcomed into, where a large bed and a hot bath await her.

She checked, but none of her teammates are tailing her, and she's relieved that she has Callen blessing to do this, to keep digging into dangerous territory.

She's greeted warmly when she enters the villa. "Catalina!" she's called. "_Welcome, cousin_."

"_Thank you_, Grigore," she says, kissing him on either cheek. "_It is good to see you again._"

"_You are right on time_," he tells her. "_The children have just gathered at the dinner table, and we are about to eat!_"

As a result of her team rescuing one of their own, the Comescu family had been greatly diminished. Grigore Comescu—having been in Argentina when her team invaded their beach house on the Black Sea—is now the head, and he'd moved the rest of the family into America, hiding right under everyone's noses. The remaining family members are still young—the oldest of them turning eleven in two months—and if Grigore Comescu hadn't proven to be such a bad man, she would've admired how dedicated he was to his nieces and nephews.

Clearly, family meant everything to him, which is why she was posing as his younger cousin, Catalina. Grigore Comescu had lived away from his late family, but he gladly took up the 'family business' when the rest of his relatives were killed. And the fact that she'd been injured—obviously targeted by someone—was one of the things that made it so easy to slip past his defenses and get him to trust her in less than five months.

So here she was now, literally dining with the enemy and the rest of his blood-kin. She has roast duck for dinner and soaks in a lavender-scented bath before sleeping in 'her' room, on a king-sized memory-foam bed.

She thinks of Callen before she dozes off. _Come back to me,_ was all he asked she do, and she would.

She'd come home soon enough.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

_I hope you guys enjoyed this! Two more chapters to go!_

_xoxo,_

_~E_

_Disclaimer__: In my dreams, I like, totally own NCIS: Los Angeles. Totally!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Saved  
><strong>_**by** **Eris**

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She runs. And this time, it's for the reasons she's supposed to.<p>

She's glad that the children were already away and safe—seeing their uncle and supposed aunt duking it out with guns and fists wouldn't exactly be conductive to their development. She wants this generation of Comescus to be free of the hateful curse of their forefathers.

She turns back to fire, and maybe it's just pure dumb luck or some sort of divine intervention, but the assault on her stops as she fires her gun for the last time, her bullet making the kill-shot.

Maybe it's karma, but he still manages to send out a barrage, the bullets—she can't tell how many through the pain—slicing through her body like a knife on hot butter. She's gasping and bleeding on the ground before she can even realize she's hurt, and then all she knows is pain.

There is no sense of time here, no sense of anything but the fact—the knowledge—that she's dying.

This time, she thinks of Callen before she succumbs to the darkness.

_Come back to me,_ was all he asked her to do.

* * *

><p><strong>TEN HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**Office of Special Projects Headquarters, Los Angeles**

* * *

><p>It's exactly 9:15 in the morning when Hetty appears in the bullpen, telling them that they were needed upstairs. When they get there, they see NCIS Director Leon Vance on the line, along with Agent Lauren Hunter in a separate window. Also on the wide screen were pictures of familiar faces.<p>

One of the most prominent images was a photo of Kensi on the arm of a man who, according to the label, was Grigore Comescu.

"What the hell is going on here?" Callen demands immediately. His reaction was understandable—the Comescus had turned his life upside down at a young age, and apparently are continuing to do so, even until today.

"Patience, Agent Callen," Vance says. "I wouldn't have called you all in here if I wasn't going to brief you on the situation. Eric."

Eric tapped on his handheld, enlarging the photo of Kensi and Comescu. "Grigore Comescu. He left Romania a few days before you guys got there. According to his travel log, he went to Argentina."

"Argentina," Hunter interjects, "is where the real Ilena Vadim lives. He made contact with her and blew my cover. Luckily," she adds, "you guys killed off the main family before they could find out I was a spy."

"How did we find out about Grigore?" Callen asked, looking pensive.

"The laptop," Hunter answers. "It had a list of every member of the Comescu family, dead and alive. Grigore Comescu was one of the few unaccounted for at the beach house."

"But that list was incomplete," Vance adds.

"It only showed the male members of the family," Hunter explained. "But since Alexa Comescu was clearly the head of the family—"

"You thought there was another list where all the female members were identified," Callen concludes. He pauses, a look of realization crossing his face. "That's why you sent Kensi."

"No," Deeks interrupts, looking disturbed and halfway to furious, hands clenching into a fist. "She didn't send Kensi anywhere. She _took _her. _You_ were the one driving the ambulance that night!"

Hunter tilts her chin up, looking unrepentant. "She was in a prime position to infiltrate Grigore Comescu's operation."

"She was _shot at!_" Deeks roars, his face reddening even in the dim lighting.

"Detective!" Vance snaps, and Deeks rears back slightly at the reprimand. "I already read Agent Hunter the riot act, and believe me, she is on a _very_ short leash." At this, Hunter looks away from the camera, clearly gritting her teeth.

A tense, awkward pause envelops the room.

"Walk us through the op," Sam requests quietly, and oddly enough, he sounds like the calmest person in the room at the moment.

Hunter turns her eyes back to them and exhales deeply. "Agent Blye went in as Catalina Vadim, Ilena Vadim's sister. Ilena was glad to help after Grigore visited her and basically turned her world around."

"Hang on a second," Eric says suddenly, and an image suddenly enlarged on the screen, showing the picture of the woman who'd taken Kensi's bag out of locker 20 at the Fresno airport. "Is this Ilena Vadim?" Eric asks.

"Yes," Hunter confirms, looking surprised. "That's her. Where is that?"

"Fresno Yosemite International Airport," Callen tells her. "Kensi withdrew fifty thousand dollars from the Union Bank of Switzerland, took something from their safety deposit box, and put the money in that locker. Ilena took it out. In exchange, she gave Kensi whatever was in the safety deposit, saying they were some files."

"Agent Blye has the files," Hunter repeats slowly, and clearly, this was important news. "If she already has the files we were looking for—"

"Why hasn't she come back yet?" Vance ends, frowning.

"Why hasn't she sent them to me?" Hunter mutters at the same time, glancing to the side with a deep frown. "This doesn't make any sense."

Her comment alarms everyone else. "Why? What else was she supposed to do?" Sam asks.

"Agent Blye was supposed to catch Grigore Comescu's attention, assimilate herself into his world, and search and retrieve any and all information she could find on him, his operations and his family," Hunter tells them automatically. "That's all the mission ever was."

"Maybe she found something else," Hetty speaks up. "Something equally important."

Everyone takes a moment to consider that.

"That list," Nate suddenly says, "how many people were unaccounted for, exactly?"

"Five, including Grigore," Hunter answers, shifting in her seat.

Callen narrows his eyes at her. "Send the list to us," he orders, "and everything else you have_,_ Agent Hunter. We'll go over it again." He levels a stare at her, "Just in case you missed something important."

Hunter bristles. "Excuse me—"

"_You took my agent_," he reminds her, his voice low and dangerous. "You didn't even _inform_ the _Director_ of what you were doing until he could do nothing else about it. You _played_ us, _Agent_ Hunter. You can start making amends by giving us _everything_ you have, starting from the moment you began your _investigation_."

There's silence in the room—not even Vance can say anything because Callen's _right_. By taking Kensi first and asking for permission later, Hunter _did_ manipulate them all. There wasn't a person in the room who didn't resent her for stealing Kensi.

"You'll send what you have, Agent Hunter. _Everything_," Vance tells her in a tone of finality.

Hunter doesn't twitch, but she gives Callen a cool stare as she responds, "I will, Director."

"Callen," Vance says. "You take the lead on this."

Callen gives a fuming Hunter a smug look. "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p><strong>NINE HOURS AND FIFTY-FOUR MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**1702 West Bullard Avenue, Fresno**

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She enters her house after a good run to find Grigore there. His presence is unexpected—he hasn't been here in a long while now—but judging by the congenial look on his face, he isn't here to kill her, so she forces herself to relax and smiles back at him.<p>

"Grigore! _I wasn't expecting to see you today_," she tells him, picking up the towel she'd left on the nearby end table and patting away the sweat on her skin.

"_Urgent matters are calling me elsewhere, cousin_," he replies, giving her a once over. There's something in his stare and the way he says 'cousin' that has her itching for her gun. "_Would it be such a bother if you stayed at the villa with the children for the next two days?_"

"_No, of course not!_" she answers with a hint of laughter, still playing her part. No need to show her hand when he's only poking at her bluff. "_But what matters are so important that you willingly leave us?_"

"Ay_, _Catalina! _You hurt my feelings with such accusations!_" Grigore says playfully. "_But as they say, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself._"

"Da, _this is true_," Kensi agrees. "_When do you leave?_"

"_In one hour,_" he tells her.

"_Enough time for me to shower and change,_" she states, smiling again. "_I'll bring you to the airport,_ da?"

"_I would prefer that you went straight to the villa,_" Grigore protests.

"_Nonsense!_" she exclaims. "_You sit, watch television or read a book. I will be quick._"

"Catalina—"

"Grigore," she says in a playful, warning tone. "_I want to spend as much time as I can with you before you leave. Okay?_"

Grigore gives her a small smile. She sees the difference in it immediately. "Bine, bine. _But be quick about it. I know how long it takes you to get ready._"

She gasps in mock indignant rage and throws her now-damp towel at him. He avoids it with a laugh, and she ducks into her bedroom before he can retaliate with an olive green throw pillow from her couch.

Or a bullet to her brain.

* * *

><p><strong>EIGHT HOURS AND THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**Office of Special Projects Headquarters, Los Angeles**

* * *

><p>Callen, Sam and Deeks' brainstorming is interrupted by Eric's sharp whistle, and they hurried up the steps, having seen the way Eric didn't even bother to wait for them to look at him. Nate and Hetty are already there when they enter, standing with Nell at the far end of the room.<p>

"What do we have?" Callen asks.

"We've gone through Hunter's notes," Eric says. "They're surprisingly meticulous, so it didn't take us as long as we expected."

"Apparently, Agent Hunter's been researching these guys for six years now," Nell tells them, pulling up the notes Hunter had sent over as she spoke. "She found an in with Ilena Vadim, tracking her down to Argentina. Once she discovered that Ilena wanted nothing to do with the Comescus, she hid Ilena's paper-trail even more and created her own version of Ilena. That's when she went in as a Comescu."

"Nell," Callen interrupts. "We already know this part. Skip to where Kensi's involvement starts."

"Okay," Nell agrees, putting away the notes she'd brought up and swipes her hand across the touch-screen, bringing up a news article. "Seven months ago, around the time Kensi was shot, there was a string of deaths occurring in Sofia, Bulgaria," she begins. "Agent Hunter used that to position Kensi as a 'target' and sets up chatter for Grigore Comescu to find. According to her report, the chatter suggests that _we_, NCIS, were looking for any remaining Comescu family members, and that we had a location of one member in Sofia."

"That had two effects," Eric interjects. "One was to bring Grigore's attention to Kensi—or Catalina, in this case—but the other had Grigore secluding himself, so no one could find where he was."

"The idea then," Nell adds, "was for him to get Kensi and bring her to his hideout. After putting Kensi in Sofia, Agent Hunter contacted Ilena Vadim, Grigore's real cousin, and asked for her help convincing Grigore to go get 'Catalina.' Agent Hunter promised her that once the Comescu family business had been permanently shut down, Ilena wouldn't have to deal with her relatives anymore. So Ilena contacts Grigore and tells him about her 'sister' Catalina's attack."

"There _was_ a minor hiccup in the plan," Eric says. "After their encounter in Argentina, Grigore refused to help Ilena, because she sent him away and basically disowned the Comescus. Ilena had to change her tactics, telling Grigore that if he didn't help, then 'Catalina's' death would be on his hands, not hers, because Catalina ran away from her to search for her Comescu relatives."

"It took Grigore around two weeks to take the bait, but eventually, he retrieved Kensi from Europe and flew her back to the U.S.," Nell finishes.

"Where no one even _suspected_ he'd been hiding," Eric tacks on.

"Okay, so Kensi got Hunter Grigore's hideout," Deeks summarizes. "Part _Uno_ of Hunter's master plan, check."

"And what about Part Two of the Plan?" Callen asks them, glancing between Eric and Nell.

"Part Two is trickier," Nell says, slightly scrunching her face. "Kensi was supposed to integrate herself into Grigore's operations, but something happened. Hunter didn't specify what it was, but seeing as how thorough all the other details of the op is, I don't think she's keeping the events to herself."

"Kensi," Deeks states simply. "Girl's got more secrets than a man can stuff skeletons in a closet." He gets a weird look from Eric at this, but Callen, Sam and Nate are nodding in agreement.

"Well, whatever happened, it had Grigore putting Kensi up with her own place, thus the house under Kaitlin Banks' name," Nell tells them. "She's been staying there ever since."

"We checked the surveillance cameras around her home," Eric adds. "Grigore made the trip to her place almost every day for the first month. He doesn't go there at a specific time either—sometimes it's really early in the morning, sometimes late at night, sometimes in the middle of the day."

"I bet Kensi didn't get much sleep," Nate comments.

"When did he stop going to her place?" Sam asks.

"After Kensi started going out on her own," Eris answers, showing them a video of Kensi, wearing a loose blue dress and a pair of flat heels, walking down the street carefully with one hand around Grigore's arm. "At first, she and Grigore took walks together, and they went _everywhere._ I've seen them on at least fifty-seven traffic cams and none of them at the same place at any other time." He pulls up another video. "After a month of that, he stopped appearing. Kensi took her walks on her own, but never at the same route twice either."

"Around that time," Nell adds, "Kensi started working at a gym called Greg's under her Kaitlin Banks alias—which, according to Hunter's notes, was given to her _by_ Grigore Comescu."

"So I ran a search on all the people working at Greg's with the same surname, and got a hit," Eric says, bringing up a driver's license with a picture of Grigore on it. "Gregory Banks, owner of Greg's gym. According to his driver's license, he lives at the same address as his 'cousin,' Kaitlin. But we've monitored that house, and other than the time he was visiting Kensi that first month, he hasn't gone back."

"Could the gym be a front for something?" Sam asked.

Eric shakes his head. "I already checked," he tells them. "On paper, it's legit. And it's _really_ close to a police station, so a lot of their patrons are cops too." He pulled up the schematics of the building. "The gym's on the second floor, with only one main entry and exit point, plus a fire escape at the window. I ran background checks on all the employees, and they're also pretty legit. Most of them graduated as P.T.s from local community colleges. It's like the epitome of 'six degrees of separation,'" Eric emphasized. Then amended, "Only here it's like, 'three degrees of separation.' Pretty much everyone knows or has heard of everyone in there." He shrugs. "If Grigore's using that gym as a front, I don't see how he's getting away with it."

"There's something else, too," Nell adds tentatively, glancing at Eric.

Eric's face drops, and he exhales heavily before tapping on his handheld, bringing up a list of names. "These are the names on the laptop Hunter took from the Comescu beach house. Only five names on the list are labeled 'alive.' Hunter identified the men you guys took down in Romania and updated the list."

"We also think we know why Kensi hasn't left yet," Nell says, and everyone immediately perks up. "Look here." She taps on her handheld and maximizes the five names. "It's the names, birthdays and death days of each family member. Grigore Comescu, October 1, 1976 to present. Alexandru Comescu—"

"April 12, 2000 to present," Callen reads, sounding dumbstruck.

"Ilie Comescu," Sam continues for everyone else, because even Nell seems to have quieted at Callen's reaction. "July 21, 2002 to present. Martin Comescu, July 21, 2002 to present. Viktor Comescu, December 8, 2005 to present."

"They're kids," Callen breathes, his face blank, but his eyes alone expressed his feelings about the matter. By now, everyone understood why he was so affected—it was no longer a kept secret that Callen had been orphaned at a young age, his mother murdered right in front of him. If anyone would feel guilty at doing the same thing to another child, it's Callen. "We orphaned those kids—"

Sam grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. "_G_," he says firmly. "Don't do this to yourself, man. We had no choice—they had Hetty."

"We could've found another way—"

"But you didn't," Hetty cuts in firmly. "Mr. Callen, we cannot live the rest of our lives second guessing our actions. What's done is done."

Another quiet moment passes them by.

"Callen?" Nell tries, and she jumps a little when Callen looks right at her from over Sam's shoulder. "I think Kensi's taking care of the kids. I'm pretty sure that's why she hasn't risked leaving yet."

"We've been monitoring the activities of Kensi's new aliases," Eric adds in when Callen stays silent. "She's been really careful, but over the past three months, she's been moving money. Lots of it. To Argentina."

"To Ilena Vadim," Callen realizes.

"We think she's setting something in motion," Nell tells them, "some sort of plan to get the kids to Ilena and away from Grigore. Thus the fifty grand we saw her leaving for Ilena Vadim in the locker."

"What about the files Ilena gave to Kensi?" Deeks asks. "Do we know what's on them yet?"

"I hacked into Kensi's laptop the last time she went online, but I didn't see any files pertaining to the Comescu family on there," Eric admits. "The files are either on paper or stored on a thumb drive."

"Do we have _any_ idea where the Comescus are staying?" Callen asked, raising his hands to Sam's and pushing them away gently. Sam nods at him and pulls his hands back.

"No," Nell answers. "Agent Hunter's notes only say that they're hiding out in Fresno, but there's no address recorded anywhere. Either she never wrote it down or Kensi never told her."

Callen ran a hand down his face, looking up at Kensi's photo. "If Kensi's moving the kids to Argentina, then that'd be the place to start digging."

"G," Sam says, "what if us digging compromises Kensi?"

"What are you saying, Sam?" Callen retorts. "That we should just sit around and wait for things to get too screwed up to fix before we do anything about it?"

"I'm saying," Sam replies firmly, "that we should trust that Kensi has a plan."

Callen stares at him for a moment. "I'll trust that when Kensi asks me to trust it," he says. "Right now, I'm goin' to trust my gut, and it's telling me to go talk to Ilena Vadim."

Everyone stays quiet for a moment as Callen and Sam stare at each other in a rare moment of actual disagreement.

"Sam," Deeks speaks up. "I'm sorry, man, but I'm with Callen on this one." He looks away when Sam turned his glare on him. "Look, Kensi might mean well, but no plan is fool-proof. Better that we're there waiting to catch her when she falls than leave her without a safety net."

Sam looked around the room, looked to Hetty for backup. "Mr. Hanna," Hetty sighed, "I think you're _all_ right. Ms. Blye most certainly deserves our trust, but we must also prepare for the worst."

"I'm not sayin' we don' do nothin'!" Sam growls, his accent deepening. "I'm not sayin' we wait until everythin's screwed up."

"You want to go see her again," Nate concludes in that insightful way of his. "Confirm what she's doing."

Sam points to the names on the screen. "Those are _kids_, G," he emphasized, "you said so yourself. What if we make a move, and they get caught in the crossfire?" Callen visibly flinched at the thought. "We need to know what Kensi's up to, then we can work around it."

Deeks suddenly barked out a laugh, a small, smug smirk on his face. He looked like he didn't care he'd just cut right through the tension in the room.

"Oh, my God. Guys," he says, looking absolutely delighted. "I think I know how to contact Kensi, and _make_ her answer us."

* * *

><p><strong>SIX HOURS EARLIER<strong>

**1702 West Bullard Avenue, Fresno**

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She literally bumps into the delivery man while he's stepping up behind her and she's stepping back to test the doorknob to see if she'd locked it well. An exchange of apologies and a signature later, Kensi is left holding a FedEx envelope. Glancing around, she tears it open, wishing briefly that someone could inspect it for toxins or something similarly deadly.<p>

Inside is a simple postcard, with a picture of a fern plant. She knows instantly who it's from and wishes he'd delivered it in person so that she could sock him in the jaw for being such a dumbass. Nevertheless, she's impressed, partly because no one would know the importance, or meaning, of the plant, and mostly because she's never seen a postcard of a fern plant before. She'd have to ask where he got it.

Turning the card over, she's back to being pissed off when she sees that he's written a message to her that _anyone_ could decode.

_hey baby girl! WHAT ARE YOUR vacation PLANS FOR the near future? we miss you here in ARGENTINA. that CALL time for the hotel ENds in a few months, you know? plus, I know you'll WANTS TO TALK to ILENA. lol. PLEASE ADVISE! btw, my new number is 515-779-120. CALL ME. XOXO!_

"Idiot!" she growls, heading down the steps and into 'her' car. "Insensitive, mentally-challenged _moron!_" It's too blatant a move for her to ignore, and she knows he's only done this because he needed to get her attention.

But it's still so _reckless _of him.

_Argh!_

She circles the block twice before heading to a mini-mart and buying a burn phone, then dials Deeks' number once she's in the middle of the park across the street.

"Fern!" the moron answers. "We've really missed you, baby girl!"

"I wish you were here," she tells him, and it silences him effectively. "I _so_ want to punch you for this _stupid_ stunt, _Wyler!_"

"Kensi?" Callen's voice echoes down the line. She inhales deeply, the memory of his voice ("_Come back to me._") against her ear reverberating through her.

"Hey, Gordon," she says, using the first alias of his that pops into her head.

"Hey you back," he replies, and even through the phone line, she can feel his smile. "Listen, we need a sit rep. The Director thinks the mission should've been over a while ago, and Hunter hasn't turned up any new reports for him."

"Gordon, I'm on it," she assures him. "I haven't got that complete list yet, but I have a pretty good idea what's missing."

"You've seen the kids?" he asks. "How many girls?"

She pursed her lips, not at all surprised that they've already figured out that much. "Just the one, but it's also at a pretty small number, like maybe less than five?"

"What about Argentina? What's going on with you and Ilena Vadim?"

"Oh that," she nods. "Well, I'm kind of thinking of moving into a big house by the seaside. And maybe getting married. Kids are a definite in the near future too."

"Kensi," Sam's voice drifts over the line.

"Hey, big guy," she greets, an involuntary smile appearing on her face.

Sam chuckles. "I saw that," he tells her, and she glances around, seeing no one watching her, before looking up at the traffic cam she deliberately positioned herself under. "I miss you too, Kensi. Now, how are you gonna get those kids away from Grigore Comescu?"

"And when?" Deeks adds.

"I'm really busy watching over a few things for my cousin while he's away," she replies. "He got on a plane like, three hours ago, so I can't really meet with anyone for two days, especially tonight. Sorry."

"Fresno International?" Callen asks.

"Oh yeah," she confirms. "Totally."

"What hangar?"

"Around 5 times?"

"Hangar 5. Got it," Sam says in the background.

"Kensi, what time will you be there? We can probably head to the airport right now and get there with enough time to secure the area," Callen tells her. "You don't have to do this alone."

"Oh, wow," she replies, biting her lip as she thought it over. Her plan was incredibly straightforward as it was—sleeping pills in the water supply before dinner, pack the kids' bags and bring them to the car, get the kids into the car. From then on, everything should go according to plan. "Um, yeah, I guess that would be nice. Room service is usually good around seven in the evening."

"All right, Kens," Callen says, and it's irrational how reassured she is simply by hearing his nickname for her. "We're on our way." He paused. "I'll see you soon." He hangs up before she can think to reply, but she looks up quickly at the traffic cam, somehow knowing he'd still be watching her.

"See you soon."

* * *

><p><strong>THREE HOURS AND NINE MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**Fresno Yosemite International Airport, Fresno**

* * *

><p>When they land, Callen has the twenty-five agents assigned to the op secure the grounds and Hangar 5, performing background checks on the flight crew hired by Katelyn Di Stefano, one of Kensi's new aliases. Back in LA, Eric and Nell serve as their eyes, ready to be their ears, and constantly updating them on the earwigs Hetty has provided.<p>

"Three hours 'til go time," Sam announces through the comm. "Is everything moving according to schedule?"

While the teams report their status to Sam, Callen wanders to the lone figure standing to the side, watching the proceedings. "You okay, Deeks?" he asks, causing the other blond to turn his head to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Deeks answers, then jerks his head to the others. "You think this is gonna work? Protect Kensi and those kids, I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Callen replies. "Why?"

"Just," Deeks shakes his head slowly, "a feeling."

"What feeling?" Callen asked seriously. Deeks looks like he's going to wave it off, but Callen stops him. "Deeks, listen. Gut-instinct and a plan—that's how I survive. If your gut is telling you something, you _listen_ to it." He gives Deeks a hard look. "You never know if that feeling naggin' at you to duck would be the thing that saves your life, or that instinct to push someone off a cliff because they've got a better shot at livin' than if they're shot right in the head."

Deeks soaks that in, looking thoughtful. "Seriously, man. You're like some twisted version of a life-coach."

Callen scoffs. "You kidding? I could be president," he jokes.

Deeks grins at that, but it quickly fades. "I've got a bad feeling, Callen. Like something awful's just waiting 'round the corner." He sighs. "And when I think of Kensi—" he paused, swallowing thickly. "It's like the feeling multiplies."

Callen nods. "We won't let her get into too much trouble this time, Deeks," he tells the worried detective. "And if she happens to foil every one of our precautions, we'll duct tape her to her desk and ground her for the rest of the year. How's that sound?"

Deeks laughs. "Kensi and duct tape? I can definitely get behind that. I still owe her for the forehead thing from last Christmas."

* * *

><p><strong>ONE HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**The** **Comescu Villa, Fresno**

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She slips the crushed sleeping pills into three bottles of water and pours it into the villa's private water supply. Tonight, she'd promised the children she'd cook Mac and cheese, an American dish they'd taken a liking to, and with Grigore gone, there would be no one to protest the 'uncultured' dish. So it was easy to provide them with glasses of orange juice each, with a smaller, far safer dose of the sleeping pills.<p>

Five children—four boys and a little girl—and their aunt Ilena Vadim would be all that was left of the Comescu lineage. Certainly more than Callen's family, though that doesn't justify anything at all. Her goal tonight is to bring the innocent parties of that family together, and then make sure that they couldn't be found.

A full hour before the time she gave to her team, she has the kids' bags packed and stowed safely in the car. Every personnel Grigore had left for their protection and use was now sleeping soundly, and the kids were carried to the car she wouldn't be driving. Once they were buckled in, she kissed each of them on the forehead, because her time with them was certainly memorable.

"_You are sure you want to do this?_" Ilena asks her, one hand on the open door.

"Da," Kensi answers in the language she'd been forced to learn in only two weeks. "_This is the only way to ensure that you can live your life free from your family's past._" She looks down at the young, dark-haired girl in the back seat. "_It's the only way they'll have a good future._"

"_You are a good person, Catalina_," Ilena tells her. "_For what it's worth, I wish you truly had been the sister I had grown up with._"

She doesn't really know how to respond to that. "It's Kensi," she says instead. "My real name is Kensi."

"Kensi," Ilena repeats, nodding. "_Goodbye then,_ Kensi."

"La revedere, Ilena."

Ilena nods, then gets back inside the car. She looks back at Kensi one last time, then starts the engine and drives away from the villa.

Kensi turns around and looks up at the surveillance camera above the archway, speaks her choice of words at it, before moving into the house. She goes up the stairs and enters Grigore's study, then proceeds to dismantle his computer.

She brings it to her car, then goes back upstairs and breaks into his cabinets and drawers and takes all his files, takes his books on the shelves—takes everything. She

takes everything and leaves nothing but the paintings on the walls and the matching furniture.

And then she heads to the airport.

* * *

><p><strong>THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**Fresno Yosemite International Airport, Fresno**

* * *

><p><strong>Marty Deeks<strong>

* * *

><p>When the blue car came up to them, everyone waited for Kensi to come out.<p>

When the driver's side door opened, Deeks' heart sank.

"Freeze! NCIS!" Sam called out, stalking forward with his gun out. Ilena Vadim looked surprised, clearly not expecting the welcome. "Where's Kaitlin Banks?"

"Catalina?" she asks, blinking at them. "She is not here."

"She was supposed to be!" Callen snaps, emerging from behind the crate he'd commandeered.

It takes them a few minutes to sort things out, but they finally understand. Kensi had never intended to arrive with the children—that had always been Ilena's role. Kensi—big-hearted, happy-endings seeking Kensi—had gone to take care of the last loose end.

She'd stayed behind to kill Grigore Comescu.

* * *

><p><strong>G. Callen<strong>

* * *

><p>Sam lowered his gun and signals the rest of them to do the same. "Ilena, please," he says earnestly. "Where is our friend?"<p>

"I'm sorry," she replies in broken English. "I do not know! I asked her, over and over again, to leave with us. She would not listen! She stayed at the villa!"

"Where?" Callen asks her. "Where was this villa?"

"12429 North Friant Road," she recites.

"All teams to the emergency vehicles, 12429 North Friant Road. Eric, get us directions and find out if that place has any cameras," he snaps into his comm.

"On it, Callen," Eric assures him.

"Agent Whitfield, your team stays," Sam says. "Help Ms. Vadim get the children into the plane. When they're clear, follow us."

"Yes, sir," Whitfield responds, nodding politely to the distraught woman and guiding her away as everyone else rushes into the airport to get to the parking lot. In retrospect, it seems like a silly idea to have left the cars there, so far away.

"Callen, Kensi's not at the house anymore," Eric reports. "She brought out a lot of stuff and put it in her car."

"Where is she now, Eric?" Callen asks, his voice betraying his stress at the development.

"Hang on," Eric says, his typing audible even over the earwig. "There! She...went home. Callen, her car is at her house on West Bullard Avenue."

"What the hell is she doing there?" Deeks wondered aloud.

"Okay, hang on guys," Nell says. "I'm running through the surveillance tapes on the Comescu property. Kensi looked right up at the camera after Ilena left and said something. It's in Romanian though—"

"Send it over, Nell," Callen tells her promptly. A few seconds later, he receives it and plays the video.

Kensi looks right at him and opens her mouth. "Ne vedem în câteva."

He looks up and out the window, mouth parting in horror. "Eric," he says in a strangled voice. "Eric, find Kensi. Traffic cams, ATMs, _get me something_."

"What is it?" Deeks asks. "Callen, _what did she say?_"

He looks down at the video, staring at Kensi and that challenging look in her eye. "See you in a few."

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Sam Hanna<strong>**

* * *

><p>"See you in a few?" Deeks echoes. "Does that mean what I think it means?"<p>

"Grigore wasn't on a two-day trip," Sam voices. "He was testing Kensi."

"Guys, didn't Kensi say she dropped Grigore off at the airport?" Eric asks.

"Yeah, she did," Sam confirms.

"Well, I just searched through the security cameras of every airport in Fresno," Eric tells them, "and I didn't see either of them in any of the airports."

"We've gotta be looking for an airport without surveillance," Nell points out.

"Searching," Eric hums. "Got it. Sierra Sky Park. Gregory Banks had a flight booked for earlier today. Says here he's scheduled to arrive—"

"In five minutes," Nell finishes for him.

"Eric, how far are we from Sierra Park?" Sam grits out.

"Still ten minutes out."

"Sam," Callen says steadily, gripping the handlebar above him. "Floor it."

Sam shifts gears with a grim smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

><p><strong>FIVE MINUTES EARLIER<strong>

**Sierra Sky Park Airport, Fresno**

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>Grigore is just rushing out of his plane when she pulls up on the runway, and he looks <em>furious<em> at her. He has a gun in his hand that he doesn't hesitate to use before she can even get out, and she quickly opens the door and ducks behind the Prius she stole from her neighbor, reaching for the gun she'd tucked behind her. The weight and feel of it is comforting, like being reacquainted with an old friend, and she waits until he stops shooting before peeking over the window.

His bodyguards are on the move, and she knows that if she wants to live, even if it's just long enough to kill Grigore, she has to take them out before they can do the same to her.

_Come back to me_, Callen's voice perpetually reminds her, and she shakes it away, needing to be at her best.

She raises her gun and fires quickly, her aim proving to be as deadly as it had ever been. Two taps and the one to her right is down, blood spreading underneath his suit. She ducks when the other one open fires, circles around the car to keep her distance, then retaliates and takes the last bodyguard down while he's reloading his clip.

Grigore appears out of nowhere, gun out, and it's her reflexes that saved her from another unwanted hole in her body. She jerks back and lashes a foot out, catching him by the wrist, and the gun goes flying out of his hand, landing to their side. Kensi knows where it is just by the way it clatters—she's trained to analyze her surroundings, to know where everything is and to know how she can use it to defend and attack—and she knows it's just within reach.

But she can't give Grigore any time to retrieve it.

So she aims her gun at him and fires.

In a burst of speed, he manages to duck it and rushes into her, plowing headfirst into her belly. She's winded at the unexpected attack, breathless and disoriented, and she's slammed into the ground before she can pull herself together and recover. By some miracle or divine intervention, Grigore tumbles over her head, landing on his back as well. It gives her just enough time to recover and get some distance, but it's too late, Grigore's got his gun back, and she's right there in the open, with no cover to hide behind.

The realization has her spinning on her heel in an instant.

She runs. And this time, it's for the reasons she's supposed to.

She's glad that the children were already away and safe—seeing their uncle and supposed aunt duking it out with guns and fists wouldn't exactly be conductive to their development. She wants this generation of Comescus to be free of the hateful curse of their forefathers.

She turns back to fire, and maybe it's just pure dumb luck or some sort of divine intervention, but the assault on her stops as she fires her gun for the last time, her bullet making the kill-shot.

Maybe it's karma, but he still manages to send out a barrage, the bullets—she can't tell how many through the pain—slicing through her body like a knife on hot butter. She's gasping and bleeding on the ground before she can even realize she's hurt, and then all she knows is pain.

There is no sense of time here, no sense of anything but the fact—the knowledge—that she's dying.

This time, she thinks of Callen before she succumbs to the darkness.

_Come back to me,_ was all he asked her to do.

* * *

><p><strong>ONE MINUTE LATER<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>G. Callen<strong>

* * *

><p>He hears the sound of gunfire stop just as he bursts out of the car, Sam and Deeks right behind him. He sees three bodies littering the ground, all male, and he's relieved that Kensi isn't—<p>

"NO!" Deeks yells, dashing forward. "KENSI!"

And then he and Sam and everyone else are following, not stopping even when her body comes into view. Deeks doesn't even think about it—he pulls open the black jacket she's wearing, revealing the shirt she has underneath.

Everyone could see that it used to be white.

"Oh, God, no," Sam whimpers.

"Eric, get me an ambulance, _now!_" he snaps into his earwig.

"On their way already, Callen," Eric promises.

"Kensi!" Deeks is saying, cradling her in his arms. "C'mon, partner. Don't do this! Open your eyes! Open your eyes, Kensi! _Kensi!_"

"Oh, God, I can't watch this again," Sam says, but he still doesn't (or perhaps _can't_) turn away. He reaches for her neck instead. "Don't make me, Kensi. _Please_." It takes him a moment. "I've got a pulse!"

The words seem to snap everyone into action. One of the agents standing behind them shoots forward, removing his jacket and rolling it up to put under her head. Deeks sets her down and puts his hands over her shoulder and chest, trying to plug the bullet holes. Sam does the same for the third and fourth holes on her belly.

He vaguely registers that she'd gotten almost as many as he had when he'd been gunned down. He knows she's got a scar somewhere from the last time she was shot. It makes them even now, in an odd, twisted, ironic way.

"Sam, she's not breathing," Deeks warns.

"G!" Sam snaps at him, and he moves, placing his hands between Deeks' own to start pushing.

He counts, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5," before pausing and moving a hand to her nose, pinching it shut, then tilting her face up to push more air into her lungs. And then he replaces his hands on her chest and starts pumping once more.

He keeps at it until the paramedics arrive, and he keeps pumping even while they fit the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, only releasing her when they're ready to move her to the stretcher.

"Where are you taking her?" Sam asks.

"Kaiser Permanente Medical Center," one of the EMTs respond.

"Sir, you can't come in here," the female EMT tells him when he gets into the ambulance with them.

"Please," he says. "I'm her husband."

She takes pity on him. "Just stay out of our way. We'll do the best we can to save her."

He holds Kensi's hand tightly and doesn't look at the rest of his team as the doors close on them.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

_Just another chapter to go!_

_xoxo,  
><em>_~E_

_Disclaimer__: In my dreams, I totally own NCIS: LA. _


	3. Chapter 3

_**Returned  
><strong>_**by Eris**

* * *

><p><strong>Pacific Beach Medical, Los Angeles<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Marty Deeks<strong>

* * *

><p>He's the one who sees her eyes open for the first time in months.<p>

It's kind of an amazing thing, really—to watch someone figuratively come back from the dead. Because Kensi had been lying in that bed for the past fifteen weeks with no visible sign of change, and the doctors were dropping hints about her being a hopeless case.

Deeks wished they would say that in front of Callen—let them tackle the manic and protective man he'd become over his 'wife.'

Deeks also wished Kensi would wake up, just so he could see her reaction to Callen's claim on her.

He was sitting down at her bedside, reading her the comics section of the newspaper, when the beeping rhythm of her heart monitor jumps. He looks over to see if something was wrong—because it's the first time he'd heard that happen, and he makes a mental note to ask the others if it had happened when they sat with her before—and immediately notices the change on her face.

Her eyes, mismatched but beautiful, are looking right at him. They're glazed and dazed and clearly not registering him at all, but he's _thrilled_ because she's _awake!_

"Kensi," he murmurs, taking her hand. It twitches in his grasp, and he laughs, because _that's their girl_. Kensi would always be a fighter.

Always.

"Kensi, it's so good to see those brown eyes, you know that?" he tells her quietly.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out.

"Don't talk," he says. "Not for a while, okay? You've been through a lot, and you need to rest."

She sighs and closes her eyes again, but that's okay, because her waking up was good. It meant she was finally healing, both body and mind.

Deeks picks up his paper, intent on telling the doctors, "_In your face, bitches!_" when he sees the part he'd been reading to Kensi. He stumbles out of the room with tears in his eyes, laughter racking his body.

It figures that Kensi would react to Garfield kicking Odie off the table.

* * *

><p><strong>TWO MONTHS LATER<strong>

**Office of Special Projects Headquarters, Los Angeles**

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>Stepping into the hacienda, she's struck by the familiarity and difference she feels. It seems like forever since she's been here, and there's a change in the air that she feels a little intimidated at.<p>

But she can't deny that it's a pleasure to see that they've kept her desk as she'd last seen it. (Is it just her imagination or was that a layer of dust she saw?) She also can't deny that the sight of Callen with his feet on the table, Sam working on his laptop and Deeks filing out a report isn't a welcome sight, because she's really missed seeing them like this.

"Well, well, well! Look who's back!" Eric's voice rings out. She glanced to her left and found him grinning at her as he hopped down the steps and opened his arms. It's a surprise, but not an unpleasant one.

"Eric!" she greets, returning his hug. It's weird, but seeing them outside the office and seeing them in it makes her feel like she hasn't seen them at all for a long time.

"We really missed you here," he tells her quietly, and damn, but that brought tears to her eyes.

"I missed you too," she replies. "Thank you for the Sudoku puzzles."

"I figured you'd be bored without anything to occupy that brain of yours," he excused, blushing and pulling away.

"Well, I appreciated them," she assures him.

"You're welcome," he says.

She's suddenly lifted in the air. "Kensi!" Her wounds, despite having healed over while she was in a coma, still twinge at any sudden movements she makes, but she's learning to ignore it and keep a steady face.

"Sam!" she squeals—_squeals!_—as she digs her nails into his arms in reflex (also trying not to shove her elbow into his face, in reflex). "No! Put me down! Sam!"

He does it with a wide grin on his face. "I never thought I'd miss the sight of those silly checkered shirts of yours," he claims.

The comment is taken from out of the blue, but that's Sam. "Don't diss the checkered shirts!" she scowls.

"Hey partner," Deeks greets, opening his arms as well. "Where's my cup of sugar?" Kensi rolls her eyes at him, but hugs him because it's the first time she'd ever do it. "Wow. Didn't think I'd get a hug." His arms tighten around her, and she jerks away.

"Way to ruin the moment, Deeks," Kensi scoffs, pushing off of him.

Deeks looks at her with a playful smirk. "We were having a moment?" he asks, the smirk turning into a grin when she makes a noise of discontentment and turns her eyes to the last man on her team.

Callen's smiling a little as he watches her interact with the others, but it widens when she finally looks at him. "Welcome back, Kens," he tells her. _Come back to me_, she remembers him saying over seven months ago.

She steps to him, touches her fingers lightly over his shoulder, earning a confused look from him. "What?" she asks. "No 'welcome back' kiss for your lovely wife?"

Callen chuckles lightly, looking chagrined. "Sorry about that," he tells her.

"Sorry? I'll have you know that there were some awfully cute doctors and nurses in that hospital, Callen," she states, and his eyes narrowed down at her words. She smiles smugly. "But I'll let it pass this time." And honestly, she doesn't mind, but she has a reputation to uphold and a balance to maintain, so she digs her fingers into the collar of his shirt anyway, pulling him down to give him a hard look. "But if you _ever_ pull that stunt on me again, G. Callen," she growls, "I _will_ make your life a living hell. Are we clear?"

He's smiling by the end of her spiel. "Crystal, Special Agent Blye," he assures her, pulling her into a hug. She releases his shirt and moves her arms over his shoulders, hugging him back and inhaling the scent of sea and air and gunpowder that clings to him.

She smiles into his shoulder. "Came back to you," she reminds him.

"I know," he says. "Thank you."

"Ahem."

Kensi opens her eyes to see Hetty waiting patiently for her turn, and she steps out of Callen's embrace. His hand remains on the small of her back, and it's both awkward and comfortable at the same time. "Hi Hetty," Kensi says, smiling.

Hetty doesn't smile back. "Ms. Blye," she begins. "You and I are going to have a talk." She gestures into the office as Kensi's smile fades and Callen's body shifts closer, Sam and Deeks mirroring his movement. Hetty looks at the three of them. "Alone, Ms. Blye."

She's faced down numerous bad guys and has experienced the pain of getting shot multiple times, and yet Hetty is still somehow the thing she fears the most inside this building. Deeks has told her how worried Hetty had been for her well-being, and that when they found out she had extended the mission just to get the children out of Grigore Comescu's hands, Hetty had been angry at her for not asking for their help.

Hetty had never been angry at her before.

"Hetty—"

"Mr. Callen," Hetty interrupts. "The archives room is looking particularly dusty. Maybe you want to try your hand at cleaning it by yourself?"

"Callen," Kensi says quietly. "It's fine. It's just a talk."

"Indeed," Hetty confirms, walking away.

Kensi doesn't really want to, but she steps forward and moves away from her boys.

Once she's seated in front of Hetty's desk, Hetty offers her a cup of tea, which she accepts without complaint. "The next time you do something like this without informing me," Hetty tells her as she inhales the aroma from her own cup, "I will not hesitate to find you and drag you back by the tips of your hair." Kensi blinks at her, surprised. "Do you understand me, _tootsie_?"

Finally understanding that this was Hetty's way of telling her that they were cool, Kensi nods and smiles faintly. "Loud and clear, Hetty."

"Now," Hetty says, "once you finish your tea, you can go. _Don't_ smile, Ms. Blye!" She scolds lightly. "Pretend that I'm gave you a thorough dressing down. Goodness! You'd think you weren't one of my best agents."

Kensi can't help it, so she hides her smile in her tea, sipping the minty beverage. She knows she isn't off the hook—knows she's just been put on a leash—but apparently, Hetty's sympathetic enough to just give her a simple slap on the wrist.

So Kensi sits with her back straight, a contrite expression on her face, and happily helps the ever-mischievous Hetty make the boys squirm with worry.

It was good to be back.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam Hanna<strong>

* * *

><p>Sam can't help but watch her. The desk across from his has been empty for so long that it was a little jarring to see Kensi whenever he looked up from his paperwork. She was wearing an old checkered shirt—with purples and reds and blacks and browns—and it's comforting and wrong at the same time. Kensi had been <em>gone<em>, but she's sitting there like she'd never left.

Aside from relief, he doesn't know how to feel about it. Kensi's report had shed a lot of light on her actions, but there's a nagging feeling somewhere in his gut that tells him he hasn't heard the entire story. There's a Blur on the Big Picture, but he doesn't know where that Blur is on the Picture or what's hidden underneath it.

He wants to ask Kensi about it, wants everything to make sense again, but he's afraid. What if she tells him he's just imagining things? What if, when she says those words, he'll know she's lying to him?

He doesn't think he can take anymore lies.

Kensi suddenly looks up at him, giving him a curious smile. "What?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "It's nothin'," he replies, looking back to his laptop.

"Well, you've been staring at me for the past two hours, so 'it' can't be 'nothing,'" she points out reasonably.

Persistently.

Sam opens his mouth to ask, but the question never makes to his throat, never mind past his lips.

He gives her a tight smile. "Let it go, Kensi," he says instead, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees her eyebrows rise and her jaw drop in surprise before she composes herself and looks away. Sam sighs, eyeing her once again, and she's got a little hurt pout going over on her side of the bullpen.

But in spite of her obvious distress at his cool reply, he really can't bring himself to soothe her worries or give voice to the question that's relentlessly bugging him.

She's quiet for a long time after that, even when G and Deeks come back from whatever private conversation they'd been having next to the coffeepot.

"So Kens," G says, lowering himself into his seat. "Deeks and I were wondering if you were up to celebrating."

Sam looks up to gauge her reaction, just in time to see her give them a wide smile. "Sure," she replies. "Where to?"

G gives her a long look, because they've known Kensi for so long that none of them are convinced at her attempt at a happy face, and with a jolt, Sam realizes that the blur he kept contemplating _shouldn't_ matter. Kensi's back—for good, if he and the rest of the team had anything to say about it—and it was hell without her here.

Sam wasn't a big enough fool to take her presence for granted. Not anymore, anyway.

"Pool bar," G answers, and Kensi's lips stretch into a more genuine grin.

"Yes, please," she nods eagerly. "I haven't played pool in—" Her face blanks out, the smile fading. "—a year. Jesus."

They can see that she's starting to sink to a dark place, and it's a little scary to see her going through it. She's been away for seven months, in a coma for almost four, and has only been awake for two. Two months isn't enough to process everything she's been through.

Even for Kensi, who's practically the female version of G.

"It's settled then!" Deeks exclaims, slapping his hand on his desk. Kensi startles slightly, clearly snapped out of her thoughts. "Pool bar, beer, and burgers—the perfect recipe for a 'Welcome back, Kensi!' party."

Kensi laughs lightly, glancing tentatively over at Sam. This time, he doesn't resist the need to reassure her, smiling back and hoping she could still tell that it meant, 'We're good.'

Her smile softened, and Sam knows she got the message.

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi's Place, Los Angeles<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>G. Callen<strong>

* * *

><p>He crashes on her couch after she hides the keys to her car, claiming (ridiculously) that he'd had one too many beers to drive, and effectively strands him at her house. He doesn't call a cab because he honestly prefers to be with her than be by himself in his empty house.<p>

It's too big for him alone anyway.

"Callen?" She exits her room, and he finds that Kensi has changed from her jeans and form-fitting sweater into a pair of loose grey sweatpants and a white wife beater. Two of her scars are showing—the one on her right shoulder newer, and another, older scar on the left side of her chest.

He finds that he doesn't quite hate the sight of them, even though it does serve to make him more aware of his own healed scars, a ghostly throb tingling and echoing beneath his skin.

"I want to show you something."

She's carrying her laptop into the living room before he can tell her it can wait until morning. She had to be tired by now—he knows how the fifth month of recovery feels like, and it's a bitch feeling well enough to walk and move around, but not well enough to do anything normally. She can't cook or clean, thus the boxes of take out still scattered around the room; she can't work out or train, so she remains antsy and frustrated; and she can't go back to work to get her mind off things. Plus, since her body was still recuperating—still healing—she ran out of energy too quickly.

So really, he knows how she feels, which is why he really should tell her to go to bed.

But he doesn't.

"A few days before I contacted Ilena," she begins, "I went snooping in Grigore's study. His computer is the counter-part to the laptop Hunter got from the beach house. Every detail missing from the laptop was in his computer, and one of those details was the location of these files." She holds up a thumb drive for him to see. "And I think they're something that would really interest you."

"What's on it?" he asks, taking the thumb drive.

Kensi fidgeted, looking uncertain for a moment, but then she meets his gaze again. "Everything about you," she answers. "And your family."

He feels like the breath is knocked out of him, and he briefly remembers Hunter's words to him. _The answers that you're looking for, they died with Alexa Comescu in Romania_. But here Kensi was, telling him that she'd found the answers to his questions for him.

Kensi gently places her laptop between them, then leans over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Don't hesitate to wake me," she tells him, "if you want to talk."

She makes it to the doorway before he stops her. He doesn't even know why he does, but there's something in him that burns to know. "Is this the file," he speaks up, and she turns around to look at him, "Ilena gave to you? The one from the safe deposit?"

Kensi nods. "There were two laptops," she tells him. "When Ilena's mother was killed, her father took his kids and the second laptop and ran to Spain, away from the Comescus. The laptop was his security blanket. In exchange for the Comescus staying away from them, he wouldn't hand the laptop over to the police."

He swallows. "Sounds like a shaky plan," he says.

"It was," Kensi replies. "Alexa Comescu sent a lot of people after him. Ilena's father was eventually killed, the laptop was retrieved and entrusted to Grigore's father, and Ilena and her sister disappeared to Argentina. But before he died, Ilena's father made a copy of all the files in the laptop, which is how I got that," she adds, pointing to the thumb drive, "without alerting Grigore that I'd been on his computer."

"Alexa Comescu never found them?" he asked, wondering how they'd managed that.

Kensi shakes her head slowly. "No," she answers. "Ilena was eighteen when her father died, and she took care of her sister until Catalina died ten years ago."

He nods, the Comescu puzzle clicking into place. "And the kids?" he questions.

Kensi gives him a long look. "Safe," is all she offers on the matter. He accepts that turns his eyes to the thumb drive in his palm. "There's coffee in the kitchen," she says, and he looks up in time to see her move past the doorway and open the door to her bedroom.

She doesn't close it—a clear invitation to come in and see her if he wanted to.

He looks back at the drive, and he realizes that _this is why Kensi stayed so long on the mission_, and he's touched by the gesture, by the thoughtfulness and…

God, he's lucky to know her. He doesn't even know what he'd done to deserve her and her kindness.

He runs his thumb over the silver casing, then takes Kensi's laptop and plugs it in. He won't let her sacrifices go to waste, nor will he let himself think things through anymore.

It's time to discover—to _know_—who he was.

And where he came from.

* * *

><p><strong>Kensi Blye<strong>

* * *

><p>She wakes up from the deepest sleep she's had in a long while and finds herself staring at a sleeping G. Callen, lying on the other side of her bed. She remembers Sam telling her that Callen never slept too long, and yet he looks too well-rested for him to have just lain down beside her.<p>

A few strands of her hair were tangled around one of his fingers, and she thinks he' been playing with it before he fell asleep.

The thought is—oddly enough—not as creepy as it should be.

A glance at the clock on the bedside table behind him says that it's only 6AM.

She closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

_And yes, this is the last chapter. The story is finally done! _

_I really hope you guys enjoyed this! And if you're not happy with the ending, maybe you could make a suggestion?_

_xoxo,  
><em>_~E_

_Disclaimer__: In my dreams, I totally own NCIS: Los Angeles. Booyah!_


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